(quietly slinks forward in shame, places story on table)

I've been a naughty girl recently; I feel like I haven't written anything for ages. Well, that's not true, I've written a bit, but nothing you could define as actually good, so obviously I didn't show them to you guys, but...urg, I watched the last disc of Season 9 today, and realised I hadn't written anything about Chan and Mon being unable to have kiddies, so this happened. But, it's slightly AU, because in the ep Chandler gets the phone call from the doc and then Mon walks in seconds later...I've changed it purely for my own needs, so ya'all just go with it, pretty please! So here it is, my story in all its smoky glory (I have a thing with Chandler smoking...gross habit but damn if he doesn't look hot doing it) Oh, and the name of the story came from the song of the same name by some guy named Rufus Wainwright, I thought it was cool, so I added the choc milk reference, but you'll see. So please read and review, I love you all, and I promise I might just update "The Fine Art..." soonish...one chapter is not enough! Toodles!

I do not own friends/actors/characters, but I do own Justin Timberlakes new album...its different, I'll give him that.

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Bringing the cigarette to his lips, Chandler allowed himself the luxury of inhaling only once before flicking it away. If anybody caught him, he would be in a world of trouble and he didn't need that, not today, not ever, but most definitely not today.

"Want some company?" Chandler blinked, glanced over at the open window, motioned for Rachel to join him. He didn't really want the company, but his spidey sense was telling him he needed it. "It's freezing out here, Chandler!"

He hadn't even noticed but now he could see his breath hanging in the air, a sure sign that Rachel was right. He hated when she was right, whether it be about something as minor as the cold, or as major as expired chocolate milk leading to a night of his head in the toilet.

"Maybe we shouldn't be out here then?" he deadpanned, or managed to.

"You think I'm here voluntarily?" Chandler faced her with a look, a smirk and a quirked eyebrow, causing a sigh. "Well, I am but only because your back of head looked so glum."

"Ah."

"Aaand because…I'm gonna beat you up a little bit. Saw you smoking."

Damnit, Chandler thought with a heavy heart and tried to put a Chandlerlike spin on it. "That wasn't smoking, I barely inhaled. If you looked into my lungs, you would find small particles that hadn't even started to decay yet. They were hoping for it today, but-"

"Okay," Rachel interrupted and Chandler wondered if she had bought it; if she would ignore the look in his eyes that he knew had to be there, the one that gave away his reason for smoking in the first place. "But you still had a cigarette in your hand, Chandler."

With a patented smirk and a roll of the eyes, Chandler waited for the lecture, wondering and hoping if it would take his mind off more pressing matters and take away his urge to cry.

"What's wrong?"

She hadn't bought it and Chandler wanted the lecture. "That's it? Where's the yelling?"

"Oh, that'll come after. Wh-"

"Oh, it should come now. Come on, usually you're all-"

"What's wrong?" And maybe it was the sincerity in Rachel's face or just the tears that were burning in his eyes, but Chandler gave in.

"Monica and I can't have kids."

Rachel's face fell, her lips parting slightly. "Oh my god."

"Yeah," he said bitterly, wishing he hadn't flicked away the one thing he needed most at that moment. If he was smoking, he wouldn't have been on the verge of sobbing. "The doc just called. How…I mean, I haven't, Monica is coming home soon. How the hell do I tell her that?" The tears stung, fell and Chandler felt Rachel wrap her arms around him. "What are we gonna do, Rach?"

"It's okay," Rachel soothed, the cigarette forgotten, and Chandler knew that she was wrong – it wasn't okay, not in the slightest – but he was glad she was there, glad he had told her, because god knows he would have to be calm for Monica.